


Against The Night (Trad.)

by sleepfighter



Category: Xenosaga
Genre: AU, Historical AU, M/M, like if you squint at margulius and jin something might be going on, why are they whalers? ... because it seemed like a good idea at the time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-21
Updated: 2008-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 08:25:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1641353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepfighter/pseuds/sleepfighter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Against the night,/Your life can feel transparent,/A reflection,/A trick of light.(AU, Caanan/chaos, Jin, Margilus)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Against The Night (Trad.)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for pyrefly for Yuletide 2008. Like, forever ago, basically. IN THIS AU, IT IS NOT TOTALLY OBVIOUS, BUT THEY ARE...MOSTLY HUMAN NANTUCKET WHALERS? ...or something akin to that. I wanted to write about the repression of sailors, I think. Also, Chris -> Chaos, Cade -> Cannan, Avril -> Jin, Mayberry -> Margulis. I don't understand why I thought that was a good idea, but whatever, it's got seniority around these parts and so I guess the weird names will stay.

On a misty winter day the foghorn of a deep sea craft sliced through the air toward the docks of Durandal town. Shouts filled the yard as the dockworkers swarmed through the ship's holds and and down the ramps, rolling casks and hauling boxes and sacks that smelled of tar and salty blood, swelling the Kukai warehouses almost to bursting. Finally, as the sun set, the last of the hands came away with the sailors, leaving the _Elsa_ empty save for her Captain and her crew.

As the night began to fall in earnest over the blustery dock, the crew trickled off the ship's gangplank, striding briskly down the dock. The ship's navigator paused as the smallest of their number lingered, staring down a mostly-darkened street. The navigator paused and looked back at the youth. "You're sure you just want to sup tonight? We'll be at the Foundation if you want to catch up with us."

"No, I'll be fine. And you won't want me around anyway--I'll just drag you down. All I want to do is get used to walking on solid ground again." 

The boy waved at the navigator and finally he nodded, satisfied. "I'll see you later, then."

The boy walked away from his companions, down the deserted street towards the lit building, pausing when he could clearly see the cafe's sign. The cafe--The Whale's Whisker--sat snug on the edge of the docks, the same as it had always had. The old worn shack was a mass of gray and white in the night. The boy tilted his sea hat up so he could scratch at his forehead with a smile as he re-shouldered his bag. He squared his hat on his head as he began to walk to the door, murmuring, "It's always good to be home again."

The door creaked as he pushed it open, barely resounding over the noise of the crowd inside. The boy slipped in, settling his bag underneath the coats at the door and slipped through the crowd to the counter. He sat there contentedly for a few minutes, basking in the warmth, and listening to the soft clink of china and silverware. Eventually he sighed, and opened his eyes. The room slowly became quiet.

"Ha, Chris! You did it again!" A heavy hand met his back, and Chris smiled at the man behind the counter. "I even put a bell on the door and you snuck in. I don't know how you do that."

"Well, it must mostly be luck. After all, it's dinner time, isn't it?" Chris took off his hat and set it on the counter. "Everyone just looked like they were enjoying themselves and it seemed rude to interrupt."

Around them, the crowd laughed, and the cook shook his head, but with a smile on his face. "You're too quiet for your own good, Chris. One of these days, you'll just be walking around town for as long as you please, and no one will notice till you're back here and as a thin as a ghost."

"Well, I'll just have to speak up when I get hungry, or before, won't I? It'll be much harder to become a ghost if I'm nice and full, don't you think? Speaking of which, it does smell pretty wonderful. What's on the menu today, cook?" 

The boy beamed at the cook as the cook scowled at him, crossing his arms. "I've been thinking about your food while I was out there, you know. It's not like any one of us can cook very well. Not like you." 

The cook snorted. "You're not that bad, young sir. But if it's my cooking you want, it's my cooking you'll settle for. And tonight, that's curry, with your choice of rice or bread, and rice pudding to follow. And something calling itself tea, if you won't take gin. I hope you don't mind that, sir." 

The boy shook his head. "No, that sounds lovely."

Later that night, after all the dishes had been scrubbed and put away, the toasts drunk, and the lamps doused, the boy creaked his way up the stairs in the dark. He'd refused a lamp, pointing out that his trip would be short and he knew the way by heart. He paused on the landing and rapped his knuckles against the door. A soft pair of footsteps padded their way across the floorboards and the hinges creaked abominably, but the door opened. A grumpy sigh came "Who--Chris?"

"Hello, there. I hope you don't mind the presumption of a guest tonight, Cade. I didn't feel much like a reveler tonight, and I thought to call upon an old mate for succor in the night, as well as the personal favor of a floor, as well as of a bit of company to help me with this." With a flourish, Chris pulled out a distinctive blue bottle from his duffel and waved it at Cade.

The door opened fully, to reveal a tall man, with red disheveled hair and a untucked shirt above gray breeches and slippers. An old tattoo sat on his neck, faded and blurred through the years from rough squares into something softer and more fluid. "You sure you want to hang out with an old stick like me and my floor? After all the nice soft hammocks you must have had, my floor and I are a cold comfort."

Chris merely smiled. "Well, better you then a lady who'd surely be disappointed at the kid who fell asleep in her bosom, I think. And with any luck, you'll fall asleep before I will. Then I'll have to fall asleep to remain polite."

Cade snorted. "And if I've taken a nap? What happens to your precious plan then? And put that bottle down, or my physician will have a fit."

Chris shrugged. "I suppose I'll just have to do my best to do the right thing. After you've let me in, of course." 

"You call this a request from an old mate? I could call this invasion, sir. Or bribery. I should leave you out in the cold for the dogs."

"Ah, so un-Christian, sir. Why, I'm just a young man--honestly employed, respectful of the word of God, strong of body and mind, and just looking for any bunk in a storm. Won't you please help a distressed sailor out?"

Cade shook his head and shifted away from the doorway. "Well, when you put it that way, I think I should just shove you off on the parish priest. But I don't think I'd put my grandmother in that unheated barn tonight. I suppose I can find you a place in here. Come in, you flatterer."

Chris walked past Cade, shaking his head. "So harsh."

After they had gotten Chris's bedroll situated along with a rough pallet that Cade had ("an extra, and I was going to get sell it soon, but I couldn't find anyone else desperate enough to want it"), Chris sat down cross legged on the pillow and Cade fished two battered tin cups out of a box next to a basin. Passing them both to Chris, he sank down onto his only chair. Chris poured out a double measure of the gin into each cup and offered one to Cade. 

Cade raised an eyebrow at the cup, but he took it all the same. "I suppose one will be safe enough, but mind you, just one, Chris."

Chris nodded as he took up his cup. "Not to worry. This is the quality stuff, Cade. To absent friends."

Cade knocked the cup against Chris's. "To old comrades." He drank the gin quickly, making a face as he put the cup down. "Taste like that is enough to stop a man from drinking altogether."

Chris raised an eyebrow at him as he poured himself another drink. "Ah, well, I won't trouble you with another glass, then. I don't want to be a real bother."

Cade snorted and held out his mug. "Oh, no, not after you went through so much trouble to bring me this. I really must insist that we share the burden together. I wouldn't want you getting something dreadful. Mathews would have my head."

"Well, sir, I suppose I can't argue with that." Chris leaned over to refill Cade's glass. "Though I doubt the Captain will notice. Word has it that there's to be a storm tomorrow, and a heavy one. We probably won't set sail for a few days."

"Oh? A real break, then. And a lucky one, too--if you were still sailing with Avril--"

"Then it'd be a different story altogether." Chris sat up, straight raised his mug again. "To absent Captains."

Cade straightened up as well. "To lunatics, and all those poor fools who're luckier then they deserve. May their luck continue forevermore, by the grace of Our Lord Savior."

A lull fell in the conversation at this point, as both their eyes were drawn to the shelf on the wall where a cracked metal cylinder sat next to a phonograph. Finally, Cade shook his head. "No use wondering anymore, is there? It could be a carol of angels, it could be a hymn sung backwards and out of tune, it could be the devil's own jig."

"Oh, and you've never been curious about what it sounds like, ever?" Chris countered. "I just think it'd be nice to know someday what we're missing."

Cade held up a finger. "No, Chris. I've spent the last of my days on the sea that I ever would for the damned thing, and I've spent the last of my minutes even thinking about that thing. And if you're going to spend the night, I'll be asking you to do the same thing. It's going to stay broken, and that's that."

Chris gave Cade long, unreadable look. Cade didn't move and just stared back at Chris. Finally, Chris said, "It's your choice. I won't bring it up again, Cade."

"Good." Cade stood up. "And if you'll excuse me, I feel tired. I should probably go to bed. The accounts won't write themselves, you know."

Chris nodded. "...all right, Cade. Good night. And sleep well."

Cade went into the next room, which was the only other room in the place, practically a closet by any land dweller's standards, but was more then enough privacy for a man used to the sea, and sharing a bunk room with a ship of men. He toed out of his slippers and pants, hanging the pants up on a chair and shoving the slippers under the bed, and climbed in. He closed his eyes and tried to relax his shoulders into the mattress. He found it hard to just lay there and let himself drift to sleep, but he doggedly kept his eyes closed. _No need to borrow trouble tonight, Cade._

He must have drifted off to sleep, for the next thing he knew, he was standing on the bow of the _Asher_ , staring into the horizon. His heart leapt in his chest. It had been at least ten years since Cade had set true sail into the deepest part of the ocean, and even the dreamed sight of it was enough to remind him all over again of how much he missed her, and her temperament. But then he heard a shout behind him. "Cade! Get your lazy ass over here and lend a hand with this line."

"Avril, sir!" Cade turned around smartly and made his way over to the sail. Placing still-calloused hands on the rope, he took a quick glance around. Behind him was Chris, looking scarcely a day younger then he was now. And behind him... Avril was there, his hair pulled back in its familiar tail, his heirloom Nipponse sword at his side and dressed in his Captain's coat, and looking at Cade sternly. 

"Cade, I pay you to work, not sit around and stare like a besotted girl at the ocean. Let's look lively now, shall we? On my mark, heave!"

After a few minutes of confusion and bustle, everything managed to settle down enough so that Cade's focus wasn't on the activity. He noticed that some men were bringing out a table, and one man was bringing out a gramophone. Which meant that it was that dream.

(Sometimes, he just dreamed of sailing. Those nights, Cade woke up with a smile on his face. He ignored the tears.)

Tonight, he watched as the men placed everything down carefully and the rest of the crew flocked around as the Captain set the cylinder reverently in the gramophone and turned to address the crew. "Today, men, we have achieved something that no other crew has even dared to dream of. We have captured the voice of the mermaids of the very deep. And we'll sell their voices to the highest bidder--" 

A great thump resounded through the deck, and a voice cried out from the crow's nest. " Captain! There's a ship, off the bow! It looks like it's Maybery's crew!"

The deck erupted into motion, sailors streaming into the holds. Avril strode to the rail, calling, "Someone get my glass!"

Cade found himself running up to the Captain, unbuckling the case as he ran, and hurriedly shoving the telescope into Avril's hands. Cade stood at the Captain's shoulder and strained his eyes as the other man fiddled and squinted through the brass tube. He could see the bright red flag of the Immigrant Fleet on the horizon, and the shape of the black tree on its sail. No doubt it was Maybery and his crew. He found his hands shaping themselves into fists. Given the way that Maybery had left the _Asher_ , the confrontation wasn't likely to go well at all. This was going to be personal.

"Cade." Cade looked up to see the Captain glancing at him over his shoulder. "Put away that gramophone." His lips twisted. "And fetch the case for that cylinder, then bring it here. Worth more than its weight in gold, it is."

Cade bobbed a quick nod and ran back to the Captain's quarters with the gramophone, dumping it on its stand and snatching up the cylinder's case before rushing back to the table. With fingers that he schooled very hard to keep from trembling, Cade tucked the cylinder back into the case and the case into his pocket. He was halfway across the deck to the Captain before he heard a loud boom and saw to his horror, a cannonball that was traveling impossibly fast at the side of the ship. He found himself diving to the side instinctively, and being laid flat by the force of something tearing into the ship.

The next few moments passed in a blur. Cade could hear someone rushing over, could hear Chris talking to him urgently, asking him to open his eyes. Asking him to wake up. He could feel the effort it took to pry his eyes open, but once he opened them, he couldn't manage to close them. Boarders were approaching the ship--he could hear the rapid splash of the oars over the cannon fire--and they were close. He managed to shift himself onto his elbows, though the effort made his stomach heave, and despite Chris's urgent hands, he saw Maybery as he met with Avril's blade, before his view was blocked by a truly enormous man who towered over Cade with a short sword. He thrust at Cade, but Chris leapt at his knees from the side, and he went down, knocking Cade's head against the deck and into unconsciousness.

Cade opened his eyes. He was half out of his bed, in his room, but other then that it was quiet. He sat up and pushed his hair out of his eyes before he noticed Chris standing in the doorway. Cade grimaced. "Yes?"

"You're still dreaming about that fight, aren't you?" Chris padded across the floor to stand next to the bed. "I didn't think you'd be the type, Cade."

Cade snorted. "And why not? It's not like I'm going to see the seas in any other way again, am I? What use is a pilot with fits, Chris? I'd be endangering the entire ship. No sane man would hire me if they knew, and it wouldn't be right not to tell them."

Chris shook his head. "That isn't it." But instead of offering any other stronger rebuke he fell silent for a few moments. Cade started to swing his feet out of the bed, thinking of a cup of tea and maybe a chance at the privy when Chris spoke again. "Did you ever hear the song of the sirens?"

Cade stopped plucking at his bangs. "No. You should know that ---you were with the Captain when he made the recording, weren't you?"

Chris shook his head. "But there could have been other times. After all, the legends aren't all lies. If they were, we wouldn't have gotten the song, would we? There was something there for the Captain to hear. Something worth going after."

Cade didn't say anything as he got off the bed and walked to the door, but he paused and looked back at Chris. "Even if I had heard one before, it's not like I'll hear it again. And who's to say that I ever did?" With that, he stomped out of the room and off into the hall.

After he had gotten back into bed, Cade lay staring at the ceiling. He'd had a long life on the sea. Longer than some, shorter than most. Taken at the age of 15 from the docks of Miltia, he'd been tattooed at the neck as a member of the Federation Navy. He'd served on Avril's ship for but a year, but he'd been a good man to serve under if you could figure out his humor. The mermaid's song was something that Cade had mostly figured for another one of the Capitan's jokes. But if Maybery had come for the recording --and Cade could think of absolutely no other reason for Maybery to go that far off the normal shipping routes in winter--- then it was no joke. It was, or rather, had been, real. If he had heard the song, even once, maybe it would have helped to rest easy as a permanently beached man. But Cade had tried every method he knew of and several that he hadn't, and in the end, the cylinder refused to play at all. It wasn't worth thinking about. He closed his eyes again, determined to sleep in as long as he possibly could before he had to get up to go to work at the chartmaker's shop.

When he finally drifted off again, Cade found himself in a rowboat with Chris at the oars. The air was far more pleasant and balmy than the cold, wintery air they'd left behind. They were heading words a small island that Cade had never seen before in his life. Cade stared at it. He rarely dreamed about anything that hadn't happened, no matter how long ago it was. His memory tended to be perfectly accurate. 

Chris coughed, interrupting his thoughts. "I thought you could use a change of scene. It's not for long." Cade blinked as Chris continued. "Don't be alarmed at what you see tonight. After all, it's just a dream. There's nothing to be afraid of." 

Cade said nothing, and instead, studied the island as they approached. For its small size, it had quite a large beach, and there was an almost throne like pile of rocks in the center of the beach. He helped Chris haul the rowboat safely up the shore, leaving it by the rocks. 

Chris pointed at the tide. "Look, it's coming in." 

And indeed it was, and faster then it should be, Cade noticed. But Chris had told him not to be afraid, so he decided to let it be for now. He asked, "Are we waiting for something?"

Chris nodded. "Look, over there."

In the distance, Cade could see the tail of a large fish dive into the waves, in the direction of the beach. Cade squinted. It looked as if it was coming closer. And when the fish came up again, Cade was almost unsurprised that it had the body of a lithe young girl, gloriously unconcerned with her nudity, and quite graceful. As she approached, Cade could also make out a younger looking mermaid, quiet but no less lovely, who looked as if she could be the other's sister. 

Chris started walking down to the surf and Cade followed behind him, trailing back a few steps. If these were really mermaids...he had no idea of what to expect. Chris walked up to the older one and said a few hushed words. At her nod, he looked back at Cade. "Let's go sit over by that rock."

Cade walked closer to Chris, hunching over so he could whisper to the boy. "What's going on here?"

Chris put a finger to Cade's lips. "Shh. They're very shy--but they're going to do me a favor--so try to pretend that you know how to smile for a lady, for me?"

Cade glared back until Chris took his hand off his mouth. "I know how to smile just fine."

"Good. Well, let's sit and enjoy the music now, Cade."

Cade settled himself on the sand and smiled at the mermaids. It wasn't entirely strained, so it wasn't a bad smile for him. The older mermaid smiled back and opened her mouth. A rich, golden melody poured out of her mouth and Cade's jaw dropped open as he forgot about smiling. If they had been able to get even a fraction of that recorded, they would have been very rich. The mermaid's voice was warm, and gloriously] toned, but in such a way that encouraged you to get closer to the singer. It was better then Mass, it was better then any professional singer he'd ever heard, and it was certainly better then any recording. Cade felt himself weeping, unashamed. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Chris looking at the mermaids and grinning. And beyond that--surely, just from the tears--he could faintly make out Captain Avril sitting next to, of all people, Maybery. But they disappeared when Cade dashed a hand across his eyes. 

The individual notes of the song faded around him into a kind of hazy light, and finally, Cade opened his eyes to thank the mermaids, only to find himself back in his room with the midmorning light streaming in his window. He sat up and looked out the window to behold a town covered in a pile of soft snow. Chris was on the roof outside his window, building a snowman. Cade cracked the window, and Chris turned and walked to the window, leaning in so Cade wouldn't have to lean out. "Morning, Cade. I hope you slept well?"

Cade smiled, openly. "Very well." He carefully put his hand on the back of Chris's neck and leaned in to kiss him.

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks go to ryuutchi, ebii, and inarticulate, #babydragon, #loincloth, as well as a cast of many others who I whined, brainstormed, and srs poll'd at random intervals while drumming this into existence. Thanks for living with me while I was thinking up the original idea for this fic and then actually writing this, which was totally Not As Planned, Damit. You are all lovely human beings for not hurting me (much) when I probably needed to be yelled at to keep writing. Skogkatt gets extra thanks for the graciousness of a last minute beta. Any remaining spelling/grammar errors are purely mine, and any errors of fact are most definitely mine.  
> Jason Webely gets all the credit for being one of my favorite musicians ever, and also writing the song that inspired the title and summary. The lyrics can be viewed here: http://www.jasonwebley.com/lyrics/against.html


End file.
